The salt-laced wind whipped through Klien's hair as their battered raft scraped against the weathered planks of the dock. After three days of relentless ocean, the sight of the modest coastal town, huddled around its small Marine base, was a welcome relief. Simple buildings lined the harbor, where fishing boats bobbed with a gentle rhythm. The air carried the tantalizing aroma of grilled fish mingling with the sharper scent of alcohol—a stark contrast to the bland taste of wild roots that had been their sustenance.
Ace, his freckled face alight with unrestrained joy, stretched his limbs. “Alright, boys! Land ahoy! Time to feel solid ground beneath our feet again.”
Deuce merely grunted, adjusting his mask—a familiar gesture. Klien, however, felt a more visceral pull—the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. The last of their meager stew was long gone, and while foraging had kept them alive, it did little to satisfy the yearnings of a chef. More pressing, however, was the stark reality reflected in his Status Window. Zero bounty. And a single hit point.
Frustration gnawed at him as he mentally reviewed his stats.
[Status Window]
Level: 3
EXP: 70/300
HP: 1/1
Bounty: 0 Berries
“Alright,” Klien muttered under his breath, a spark of desperate resolve igniting within him. “If a little chaos is what it takes, then chaos it is. Maybe then someone will finally notice me.”
They secured the raft with practiced ease. The town exuded a sleepy tranquility. Fishermen mended their nets with languid movements, and an elderly woman hung laundry, her pace unhurried. A Marine patrol strolled by, their expressions mirroring the town’s languor.
Ace cracked his knuckles, a predatory grin spreading across his face. “Food first, definitely. Then, a ship wouldn’t go amiss. And maybe,” he added, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “we can punch a couple of those bored-looking Marines.”
Klien’s ears perked up at the prospect of Marine-punching. “Yeah! Marines! That’ll get us noticed, right?”
Deuce’s sigh was heavy with skepticism. “You’re a chef, Klien, not a brawler.”
“I can throw a pan,” Klien retorted, a flicker of defiance in his eyes.
Ace led the way, their small group heading towards the heart of the town’s main street. Their first destination was a bustling-looking tavern. Ace, with his usual extravagance, ordered enough food to feed a small army and a barrel of ale to wash it down. Klien, however, found himself drawn to the counter, his gaze fixed on the cook. He watched with intense focus, absorbing every detail—the ingredients, the techniques, the subtle dance of spices. A pang of longing resonated within him; his hands ached to be back in the familiar heat of a kitchen.
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[EXP +5]
As they devoured their meal, Ace’s booming voice filled the tavern. He regaled anyone within earshot with exaggerated tales of their escape from Sixis Island, their supposed battles with Sea Kings, and his grand ambition to become the King of the Pirates. A few townsfolk chuckled good-naturedly, but a group of off-duty Marines occupying a corner table stiffened at the mention of pirates.
A palpable tension descended upon the tavern.
Ace, ever the instigator, grinned provocatively. “Oh? Got a problem with that, fellas?”
The Marines rose as one, their faces hardening. “Reckless punk. This is Marine territory.”
“You gonna make me leave?” Ace challenged, playful flames beginning to flicker around his fingertips.
Klien’s muscles tensed. This was it. The chaos he craved.
The fight erupted with startling speed.
Ace unleashed a torrent of fire across the table, forcing the Marines to scramble for cover. The tavern dissolved into pandemonium. Civilians shrieked and fled, drinks overturned, and tables crashed. Deuce, with surprising agility, ducked a chair hurled by a panicked patron.
Instinct took over. Klien snatched a heavy frying pan from the wall and swung it with all his might at the nearest Marine.
CLANG.
The Marine crumpled to the floor.
[EXP +15]
“Alright!” Klien yelled, adrenaline coursing through him. “Someone put a bounty on this!”
But the shouts of the remaining Marines were not directed at him.
“Fire-User! He’s got a Devil Fruit!”
The shrill clang of the Marine base alarm pierced the air, a frantic call to arms echoing through the town.
Ace’s grin widened, taking on a manic edge. “Time to make like the wind!”
They burst out of the tavern and sprinted through the narrow streets as Marines poured from the base, their shouts growing louder. Klien, caught up in the frenzy, hurled a clay pot at a pursuing Marine, the projectile missing its mark by a wide margin. Deuce, ever practical, covered their retreat by throwing stacks of crates, creating temporary obstacles. Ace, meanwhile, unleashed fiery blasts behind them, setting several wooden storage sheds ablaze, painting the evening sky with angry orange hues.
By the time they reached the docks, half the town seemed to be in pursuit, a chaotic mob fueled by fear and righteous anger.
They leaped into a small, unguarded boat and shoved off with desperate haste. Ace, with a triumphant laugh, ignited a small fire at the stern, using his Devil Fruit powers to propel their stolen vessel away from the chaos.
As the burning town receded in the distance, a puff of smoke marked the arrival of a Marine announcement flier. A single wanted poster unfurled in the wind, the fresh ink still glistening under the moonlight.
WANTED
Portgas D. Ace
Bounty: 30,000,000 Berries
For Arson, Assault, and Piracy
Klien stared at the poster in utter disbelief. “Just him?! I knocked a guy out with a pan!”
Ace roared with laughter, waving the poster like a hard-earned trophy. “First bounty, baby! Thirty million! Not bad for a day’s work!”
Deuce merely shrugged, his expression impassive. “Well, you did set half the docks on fire.”
“I swung a frying pan!” Klien repeated, his voice rising in exasperation.
Ace clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Next time, chef. Just gotta make a bigger splash.”
That night, under the vast expanse of the star-dusted sky, as their small boat drifted on the calm waters, Klien prepared a simple meal from their pilfered supplies—dried fish and a handful of foraged herbs. It was a far cry from his culinary aspirations, but it offered a small measure of warmth and sustenance.
[EXP +30]
[EXP: 120/300]
HP: 1/1
Bounty: 0 Berries
Klien sighed, his gaze fixed on the distant constellations. One day. One day soon, his name would grace a wanted poster too. And when that day arrived, he would finally have the means to raise his pitiful HP, cook meals worthy of his skill, and carve his own place in this bewildering world.
For now, though, he was just a hungry chef adrift at sea with a future Pirate King and his stoic companion.
And honestly… it wasn’t such a bad start after all.
